


Darkest (before dawn)

by Analinea



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A teeny tiny bit of fluff, Angst, Archie gets better, Asexual Jughead Jones, Betty is the best, F/M, Hopeful Ending, I would even say happy ending but I'm not sure I'm the best judge of that, Jughead centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-09 00:23:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10399506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analinea/pseuds/Analinea
Summary: Jughead's life is a mess. But things start to look up for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there Riverdale fandom! I needed more Jughead angst so, here it is! (not) Sorry for that :)  
> If you've read my Teen Wolf stories before you know that's how I work anyway hahahaha also, first story with an ace character and damn does knowing it's at least somewhat canon feels AWESOME! Because I've got rants ready about how people write and treat ace characters, okay? Okay.  
> ( **Jughead's not aro in this though, fair warning, I needed to write someone like me for once** )  
> Anyway, first actual story outside of the Teen Wolf fandom, and it feels good :o Next fic will be Marvel (special prompt) and then maybe back to Teen Wolf, maybe more Riverdale if I get a good feedback on this! Let's see!

“I'm sorry,” Archie says, and Jughead makes a joke, lets out a smile, gives the promise of forgiveness: because he can't stay mad at his best friend. Archie apologizes, and Jughead feels as much as giddy.

But it's not the only thing he feels. It's kind of the problem with him, the way his emotions are never painted in monochrome, not even in an harmony of colors. No shades, no gradation, just a clashing of tones and hues.

It's as ugly as it sounds.

So Jughead is happy and grateful for Archie's return by his side, or the prospect of it anyway.

But he's also thinking that the apology wasn't for dumping him on the fourth of July, only for the argument the night before. There's no other way to say it, _dumping_ , even if they never were a couple; but friendships are as complicated as romance, something most people prefer to ignore. He's been dumped, and Archie wasn't gracious enough for even a text. He just never came to pick him up.

It hurt, it still does, because Jughead was obliterated from his best friend's life by a girl. Archie didn't even think of him and left him alone with a backpack he's been dragging around ever since. It was that simple for him.

Archie apologizes and Jughead smiles but he waits for the other shoe to drop. For another occupation to make Archie forget about him.

Jughead always felt replaceable, insignificant. He hates having the confirmation of his fears. Oblivion, like in this book everyone was so fond of for a while. Jughead's never been particularly terrified of disappearing from memories after his death.

But while he's still alive is another matter entirely.

 

Jughead worries. He can't help it. He can't help who he is and what he feels, least of all the fact that no matter how much he tries to reassure himself, he's got facts.

His mom left and took Jellybean with her. He knows, he  _knows_ there's not enough room at their grandparent's house, remembers her telling him  _it's only temporary_ and  _it's easier because high school is closer from the trailer park_ . 

But it didn't feel very difficult for her to just up and leave with his little sister, abandon him with a drunk dad.

Jughead can take care of himself, but he's seventeen for god's sake. He shouldn't have to take care of everything else too.

Archie left. That's been established already. He didn't leave town or the house or high school, but it can't be denied that he left Jughead on the side of the road.

Juggie's been living in a drive-in for months and no one cares. His best friend doesn't even know about it, isn't that messed up? Jughead doesn't know anymore, his messed-up'o-meter is scrambled up, rigged, broken.

Just like the rest of him, really.

The drive-in left. It shouldn't feel like it, because even if the place was sentient -and damn does it feels like it in the dark hours of the night when no one's around- it didn't  _choose_ to leave. 

But, uh. It did. It really did, and Jughead has again to find a place to sleep in between school and hours sitting in a booth at Pop's, alone.

The high school closet feels very Harry Potter-y. He likes to tell himself that maybe he'll receive a letter of acceptance at a school for wizards. Some place that actually wants him for once. Just. Just once.

It doesn't feel magic, not-sleeping in this place; 'cause who is he fooling except himself? He hasn't slept correctly since mom left, since dad started drinking again. Isn't it obvious, he asks himself every morning in front of the mirror, doesn't he look exhausted? Why, why doesn't anybody else fucking see it?

He can't keep this up.

So then there's Betty. Betty's nice, Betty's sweet and smells good and– it really sneaks up on him, that feeling, this knowledge about the girl's everything. Look, scent, the color of her hair and the way it swings behind her when she walks with determination.

She asks him to help with The Blue and Gold. It's probably the first step.

She asks him to help, period.

In between the scenes of the big Jason and Polly tragedy, she asks him if he's okay. He doesn't break down at hearing it but it's a close thing. He didn't realize how much he wanted to hear the words, how much he was waiting for someone to say them.

Still, he only says “Fine! So about the article on the swim team,” and works on distracting her. He's grateful for the concern, but he's not ready to be vulnerable.

Because hell, the feelings for Betty grow and grow until he can't not notice them, and he can work with that, he really can.

Until they kiss.

For the first time in months he feels genuine, unstained happiness. Like a little kid, shy with deep red cheeks, eyes looking sideways and mouth grinning.

The moment is broken as soon as he's alone by every worry, every fact, every person that left.

Jughead gave and gave and gave parts of himself to a lot of people until he learned his lesson, until he learned that they don't give back and they walk away without a single look behind. He's only an empty shadow now. He even looks the part, he knows.

Jughead's been doing a lot of introspection. He has the time, the free head space. He wishes he hadn't and could think of whatever every body else does, but no.

So he's known for a while that he's not really interested in... _that_ . Sex. He knows that teenagers are supposed to be interested in it, heard the talks, talked about it with Archie. He's not aversed to it, he's even had fantasies. He doesn't watch, but he reads porn.

He's simply not interested in the application of it.

And damn if it doesn't terrify him.

Betty is the best person he knows and he wants her to be okay with it but he doesn't want her to _have to_ be okay with it, doesn't want her to not be okay with it and reject him, throw him down in the dirt to pick up his own pieces.

He's not sure he'll be able to get up if that happens. To glue back the parts of himself he gave away _again._ He's not even sure he has the complete set of _Jughead's puzzle, 1541 pieces, min age: 17_.

What a depressing thought.

Back to the kissing. The kissing is good. The kissing is a thing he's alright with, he _wants_ kisses. He'll leave it at that for as long as he can. They're not yet at sleeping in the same bed anyway, so he can pretend for a while that the only thing he want aren't freaking cuddles.

Also, he wants to be the little spoon. He's got a lifetime of comfort to receive, he's owed a big spoon by the universe.

In the mean time, he'll wait. He's got his friend, it's enough for now. Enough against the cold and the darkness of the high school hallways, enough against the loneliness, the fear, the absence of his family.

It has to be.

He doesn't want Betty to leave too.

 

Archie comes back, really comes back. It happens a morning in high school, and Jughead will pretend to his dying day that he wasn't _that_ startled by someone appearing behind him in the mirror.

He also plans revenge for that, because he almost had a fucking heart attack dammit.

Archie asks, and for once it's the right question. Or the right insistence. “No really, Jughead.”

And Jughead's...tired. So he drops the lies he's got ready and shows Archie.

It's like that day Archie took a punch because Reggie was being his usual douchebag. It feels like Jughead gets pieces of his best friend back, the caring that Archie's so good at when he wants.

It's like...it's like breathing again after being under water.

Jughead thinks maybe it's a sign that he'll finally stay afloat instead of drowning, that the storm starts to pass. He counts the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. It's quieting down, he thinks.

He smiles.

 

Jughead wears his crown because most of the time the way it feels around his head makes him feel a little more real, a little more powerful. It puts up an invisible shield between himself and the bullies' words.

It doesn't protect him from being escorted out of high school by the Sheriff and the principal, walking along the hallways full of people, feeling their eyes on him.

Right then, every word that ever struck his invisible shield finally pierce his skin. _Freak murderer creep psycho_ he's got a whole dictionary of it organized like a web of insults.

Even after listing every proof that his life sucked, he never expected the Sheriff to have so low an opinion of him and suspect him of murdering Jason Blossom.

He guesses he makes a good victim -isn't that ironic- for this kind of accusation. He still doesn't want to end up metaphorically hanging for a crime he didn't commit. He's already going to have to deal with enough shit from the other students now that he's been taken in by the police.

Betty comes in. She believes him. It goes a long way, even if his heart still feels frozen, eyes stinging with tears he refuses to shed. He hasn't cried since– He can't even remember since when.

“No one knows where your dad is,” she says. It shouldn't be a surprise, and it isn't. The hurt is. Jughead gave up on the hope that his dad would do anything for him, for their family. But then he hoped again, and that's the most dangerous thing.

He never learns, does he?

Archie's here with his dad, and that feels like Jughead can finally completely trust his best friend again, a piece falling in place for good. It makes him feel a fraction better, but unfortunately it'll never compare to a father's concern.

“Jughead! I'm sorry. I came as soon as I got your messages. My phone, the friggin' battery, I forgot to plug it in last night.” It should sound less like a lie. At this point, Jughead doesn't know whether to believe his dad or not.

FP is ready to give hell to the Sheriff, but somehow it doesn't warm Jughead's heart, it just makes him more defeated. It's awful, really, the look in his dad's eyes when he stops him and asks him not to make things worse. Jughead feels guilt burrow deep down in his guts. He wonders what twisted thing makes him feel like this when he has no responsibility for what's happening, what his father is doing of his own life.

Are kids condemned to be their parents' pain and nothing else?

It's not his fault his dad disappointed him, dammit. Can't it be his own pain and not his father's?

Jughead thinks this is just hell when the scene is followed by, “You, uh, coming home with me?”

Archie, sweet oblivious Archie that feels his best friend's despair but doesn't know how to fix it, makes it worse for Jughead when he answers with, “He can stay with us, Mr. Jones. We already offered.”

Jughead can't thank them enough for doing that for him but right now, Archie saying this to his father makes him want to drop dead and directly into his grave, right here and then in front of the Sheriff's station.  
“Is that what you want? Maybe that's for the best.”

This can't get worse.

Jughead declares as steadily as he can that he'll go with his dad. The feelings behind the words are too complex even for him to understand, all he knows is that the guilt doesn't leave anyway. Shit, he really doesn't want to cry.

“Son, listen to me,” FP says, and okay. It _can_ get worse. Jughead's father tells him he'll get better. Jughead knows now. He doesn't believe his dad. 

But he can pretend. Yeah, he can, he'll do that. Okay. For everyone else's sake.

 

Betty walks with him all the way to Archie's house. Archie and his dad are probably already there, because Jughead asked them to go ahead, said that he needed to think for a while.

Betty, bless her, doesn't ask him if he's okay. He wouldn't be able to answer and he'd hate that.

She keeps his hand in hers, tethers him.

Clashing colors: Jughead's heart could explode from the feeling of her skin against his like that. Jughead's head thinks that he's an omission away from losing it. For whatever reason, his brain seems to think now's the best time for truths and admissions.

Well, in a sense, he may as well rip the band aid off right now and deal with the fall out or whatever. If he has to lose Betty, he's in the right -wrong- mindset for it, and he won't have to have another dreadful day like this.

“Betty, I–” he starts, choking on the words. His eyes look everywhere except at her, and he stops walking, half faces her so that she can see his face but he doesn't have to see hers, wets his lips nervously.

He keeps his hand in hers, cowardly. Or bravely, he doesn't really know anymore.

“There's something I need to tell you if I– if you– if we...keep doing...this,” he raises their joined hands.

She nods, opens her mouth but thinks better of it to let him talk. He doesn't want to think that she cuts her loses, covers herself so that if he says something she doesn't like she can always say “Okay lets stop then” and not have to keep any promises like “I want to keep doing this too Juggie”.

He doesn't know any easy way to say it. He's always been okay with that part of himself, not ashamed or anything. It's just always hard when you don't know how people will react. He's read the horror stories on the internet.

“I'm asexual,” he looks at her now, wants to see if she understands what it means. Not everybody has head the word. Betty frowns slightly but there's no disgust on her face. It's something, at least.

“It means I don't want to have sex,” Jughead says, “maybe not ever _ever_ , maybe just not initiating it or accepting it more than once in a while, I don't know yet to be honest. I just know I'm not...interested,” he sighs out.

He shook their hands during his speech because he didn't realize he kept his fingers intertwined with Betty's all this time.

“I still want the romance and the flowers and all that stuff,” he hurries to add. He wanted to leave a silence, a space for her to answer; he's even good at silences, has mastered them in empty corridors and closets under stairwells. Nerves got the best of him this time.

He feels unfair and guilty to be so ready to justify himself and this relationship by explaining to her that he's not aromantic, even if she maybe doesn't know the word for it. He's as human as the rest of them in the end, fear makes him weak.

He never really thought he was better than that, anyway.

“Okay,” Betty says with a shake of her head and a move of her eyes as if to say no big deal. She even shrugs a little like she's just agreeing to never having a cat because he's got allergies.

Jughead does want a cat, but, um. That's not the point.

“Okay?” he asks for confirmation. He can't quite believe it.

“Yeah! Okay! I wanted to take things slow anyway, but if you, uh, if you don't want to _take things_ at all, well,” she shrugs again, “okay.”

“Maybe–” he doesn't want to say _maybe you'll change your mind when you're really face to face with the reality of it_ and she interrupts him before he has time to. He's grateful. 

“I won't change my mind,” she insists in a tone of voice that implies a “stupid you” at the end of the sentence. He lets himself start to feel some happiness then, because she doesn't hesitate. It has to mean something.

Because she believed him and he believes her. He trusts her. He trusts these big blue eyes that look at him earnestly, this half smile.

She blinks once and its the millisecond it takes for him to finally be entirely warm.

In this instant, he doesn't feel cold or alone anymore. He's got a roof over his head that feels loving and accepting, his best friend back, Betty. There's still bad stuff, intrusive thoughts that won't leave him for a long time, fears buried in his bone marrow.

But, well. Things start to look up. The seconds between the lightning and the thunder get longer.

He grins.

And then he kisses her. This, right here. It's an harmony of colors.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest and say that I'd rather have a comment than a kudo, but *sigh* I'm not going to complain about having kudos anyway!  
> Seriously though! Kudos and comments are the love of my life!  
> On [tumblr](http://kinsbournescream.tumblr.com)


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